


Q&A with Tango

by bannedfrompencils



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Canon-typical Alcohol Consumption, Demisexual Dex, Dialogue Heavy, Drinking Games, Gen, Underage Drinking, give Chowder the appreciation he deserves, kegster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 04:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15307038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bannedfrompencils/pseuds/bannedfrompencils
Summary: Ransom and Holster invent a drinking game for the team to get to know each other a little better.Set near the end of year three





	Q&A with Tango

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [MonJoh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonJoh/) for listening to me rant about dumb hockey boys doing dumb hockey things she doesn't understand.
> 
> This has been a work in progress for so long that it feels a bit surreal to finally post it, but I have more things to write, so here you go. Enjoy!

No one is sober anymore.

In fact it is late enough that most of the party-goers have left, save a few drunk college students making out against the walls or passed out on the lawn, and the haus is buzzing with end-of-kegster energy. The music has been lowered from the near-deafening roar that shook an impressive segment of frat row for most of the night, making it easy to hear the rowdy alcohol-fuelled laughter coming from the den. Gathered there are a dozen of Samwell men’s hockey team players and managers alike, plus Farmer, for drinking games to “wind down from the throwing-up-on-your-dance-partner portion of the kegster,” according to Ransom.

It is a good thing they do not have practice in the morning.

They are sitting in a circle on the even-stickier-than-usual floor. Everyone has a plastic cup set in front of them filled to varying degrees with whatever liquor has not already been finished off, though accusations are being thrown of players cheating by drinking only mix.

“Have you ever _seen_ Holster after drinking Redbull?!” Lardo points out. “Trust me, he would not seem sober.”

“I’m not sober! You young’uns just suck at Two Truths and a Lie.” The statement brings about a chorus of protests and a groan from Bitty over Holster’s use of the word _young’un_.

“Whatever, old man,” Nursey chirps. “I do think it’s time for a new game though.”

“Oh!” Ransom shouts, immediately getting everyone’s attention. After a year of having Ransom and Holster as their captains, the team had grown used to shutting up and listening whenever they yelled something (rather unwittingly, in some cases.) “I know the _perfect_ game we could try.”

He turns to Holster, grinning like a maniac. Holster blinks before taking on the same expression as Ransom communicates telepathically whatever he is thinking. “Bro, you mean?”

“I do mean!” Ransom agrees.

Used to their scary speechless conversations, the rest of the group waits for an explanation, which Ransom and Holster give in true Ransom and Holster fashion — together, and with as much dramatic flair as possible. “Let’s play Q&A With Tango!” Ransom says, and everyone looks between him and Tango.

“What?” Tango asks, without nearly enough apprehension in his voice for the excited way Ransom and Holster are looking at him.

“Oh no,” Whiskey says, with exactly the right amount of apprehension, which happens to be a lot.

 _“Boys,”_ growls Bitty, having become even more protective of his lower-year teammates since getting the C. He is glaring at Ransom and Holster with an impressive amount of menace.

“Okay, we give,” Nursey says. He is too drunk for his air of mild disinterest to actually cover up his enthusiasm. “What is Q&A With Tango?”

“It’s this game Holster came up with,” Ransom explains, completely ignoring his ex-co-captain’s interjection of _“Bro, it’s your game too!”_ “Based on how invasive Tango’s questions get when he’s drunk.”

“Sorry,” Tango offers.

Holster stands, then pauses to take a drink (for the dramatic flair, of course.) He swings his arms out wide, only wobbling a little bit, which makes Bitty duck and scoot backwards as he is now directly underneath Holster’s sloshing cup. "The game goes like this!

"We take turns choosing someone else in the circle and a subject. Tango has to ask that person a question about something related to that subject. For example, I could choose Ransom and family. Or Lardo and classes. Or Bitty and sex life." Holster ignores Bitty's noise of protest. "You can choose to not answer, but then you have to drink. If you do answer, both Tango _and_ whoever chose has to drink. The more specific the category, the bigger the drink. Then whoever got asked the question goes next." He grins at the Tadpole in question. "So? Whaddya say?"

Tango pauses. He makes a show of looking around the circle, starting with Whiskey, who shrugs at him.

"Tango, honey, you don't have to do this if you don't want to," Bitty says gently.

"I'm in," Tango says, grinning at Holster.

Ransom fist-pumps, nearly elbowing Holster in the knee. "'Swawesome!"

"I'll go get another bottle," Lardo says, fist-bumping Tango on her way by.

"Y'all're crazy," Bitty says with a roll of his eyes, but no one misses the way he shifts to get a little more comfortable or the look of excitement he tries to hide behind his plastic cup.

"Place your bets now!" Dex calls. "Who's gonna get fuckin' schwasted first: Tango or us?"

"Tango!" Farmer answers just as loudly, pointing at the tadpole. "You can’t phase me, punk. You don’t know me."

"By the end of this game, we'll all know you really well, Farmer," Foxtrot chirps. She is getting pretty good at that.

"If we remember anything from tonight," Bitty adds, prompting whoops and cheers from the circle loud enough to make a couple reaching second base in the hallway break apart to look in at them.

“It’s about to get a lot louder in here,” Lardo warns the couple as she steps back out of the kitchen.

They take one look at the depleting bottles of cheap vodka and root beer schnapps Lardo is holding and head for the front door.

Lardo grins and rejoins the circle, a bottle in each hand raised above her head. “All right, let’s do this.” She tops up Tango’s tub juice cup from the bottle of vodka, which she had pre-mixed with 7up in order to establish dominance by chugging straight out of the bottle.

Tango sniffs it. Judging by the face he makes, Lardo had not added all that much 7up.

“Okay! Tango, into the centre of the circle, if you will,” Ransom says.

Obediently, Tango rolls to his feet and steps into the middle of the circle. “Who goes first?”

“Ransom’s the one who started this game,” Chowder pipes up. “So he should!”

Tango nods and sits back down so that he is facing Ransom. “So now you choose a person and a subject?” Tango asks.

“Bitty, sex life,” Ransom says without a single second’s hesitation.

“I hate all y’all,” Bitty says in response. Then he glares at anyone who laughs at his accent until they shut up because he is still in denial that his drawl gets stronger when he is drunk.

“You’ve been practicing your Captain Stare!” Holster says excitedly.

“He’s gonna be way more terrifying than Jack ever was,” Nursey says, and Dex nods.

“Speaking of Jack,” Ransom cuts in, “I do believe Tango has a question to ask you Bits.”

Bitty meets Tango’s eyes, and for a moment there is silence. “All right, fine.”

“So what is the great Jack Zimmermann like in bed?” Tango asks.

“And I’m drinking,” Bitty says, and does. Farmer boos, making everyone laugh again. Bitty sets down his cup and turns his glare on her. “Why is she even here?! You’re on the _volleyball_ team!”

“Yeah Farmer, fucking go home,” Nursey chirps, still laughing.

“I’m here because I’m the best damn thing at this party, so you’re welcome. Plus I’m staying over so I don’t wake up my roommate.”

“Farmer is an Honorary Holder of a Haus Key and thus has every right to partake in drinking game shenanigans,” Lardo puts in. She sounds very official for someone who is slurring most of her words.

“Besides,” Foxtrot adds, “we’re still vastly outnumbered, so the more girls the better.”

Dex squints at her. “Are you saying that in a strength in numbers way or in a gay way?”

Foxtrot pauses. “Both,” she said finally, with a nod of her head and an air of certainty that only the inebriated possess.

“I’ll drink to that!” Farmer cheers, and everyone raises their cups.

“Oh, I’ve got one!” Bitty says.

“Person, subject?” Tango asks dutifully.

“Ford, progress with that cute education major.”

“We’re not dating!” Foxtrot insists, loudly.

“So none,” Tango chirps.

She sticks out her tongue at him. “Just ask your damn question.”

“Did you know that Ransom and Holster have friended every education first year on Facebook?”

_“What?!”_

“Dude!” shout Ransom and Holster, making Tango jump.

Nursey rolls his eyes at them. “Oh please, it’s not Tango’s fault you two lack a single ounce of subtlety.”

Ransom and Holster then dissolve into dramatics towards Tango and Nursey respectively, the word “betrayal” being repeated in increasingly tragic tones.

Foxtrot does not wait for them to finish. “Holster, fashion,” she says.

Tango’s eyes light up. “Holster! What’s one thing about Ransom’s fashion sense that you claim to hate but actually love?”

Ransom lights up as well, turning to watch Holster with the biggest smile on his face.

Studiously, Holster ignores him, instead keeping steady eye contact with Tango as he takes a drink.

“Wicky,” Holster says before everyone stops laughing so that they have no chance to chirp him. “Plans for our attic.”

Tango spins so he is facing Ollie and Wicky, then wavers like he does not quite know which one is which. Ollie and Wicky do not seem to notice.

Tango just addresses both of them. “Are you swapping out the bunk beds for one single bed?”

Everyone leans forward.

“It’s actually a queen,” one of them – presumably Wicky – says. Then the game pauses while everyone settles their bets from the Exactly How Domestic Are Ollie And Wicky pool. Holster and Tango both take decently sized drinks and Ollie and Wicky fistbump as they watch the commotion.

“Oh good,” Chowder comments offhandedly. “Those bunks squeak so loudly.”

“They’ve been through a lot,” Lardo points out.

“Bro, I can’t tell if that was a chirp or a compliment,” Ransom says, but Lardo only smirks at him.

Wicky waits until everyone is done taking note of who owes whom how much before taking his turn. “Dex and summer.”

“Yes, I’m gonna end up with more freckles, and no, none of you can ‘tag along’ on the boat when I am trying to do my job.”

“Chill, Poindexter,” Nursey chirps. “None of the rest of us are willing to spend our precious few months of freedom smelling like live lobster.”

Dex starts in on a retort but Tango cuts him off. “Actually, I was gonna ask what you’re most excited for.”

“Oh,” Dex says, then pauses. He actually thinks about his answer instead of just using the generic response given to profs and classmates and other acquaintances. “Well, me and my favourite cousin have plans to fuck off into the woods for a weekend, just hang around and shit, so that’ll be ‘swawesome.”

“So Dex is gonna get eaten by bears. Nursey, I guess we’ll have to find you a new liney,” Chowder chirps, and Dex gives him the finger.

“Fuck off, I’ve been camping in those woods since before I even _had_ freckles.”

“I refuse to believe such a time existed,” says Foxtrot, making Nursey grin at her proudly and a few people laugh.

“I knew I liked her,” Ransom says, and his words are aimed at Foxtrot but he half-punches half-shoves Dex, who is sitting on his left, while he says it.

Dex shoves him back and gets his revenge by saying, “I choose Ransom and the haus ghost!”

The group oohs. Ransom crosses his arms and exaggeratedly rolls his eyes.

Tango has a hard time keeping his laughter out of his voice, but for some reason his words have a knowing edge to them too. “Those poor girls are going to miss you so much, Ransom. Do you think they’ll follow you all the way to Boston?”

“No, because _ghosts aren’t_ **_real!_** _”_

The group laughs at his huffiness, missing what could have been a whisper from above their heads saying something like “I’d be _totally_ down for a road trip!”

Tango takes his drink while Ransom chooses his next victim. Er, questionee.

“Oh, I know,” he says, having seemingly decided to stick to a theme. “Farmer, and the deets Chowder refuses to give us.”

Bitty sighs into his plastic cup. Chowder mutters something under his breath, while to his right Dex snickers, and to his left, Farmer is positively beaming as she pushes away Nursey, who is nudging her with his elbow. For his part, Tango looks like he’s employing more self-control in this moment than he has all night.

It must not work, because he still blurts out, “Is Chowder really good at giving head?!”

“Yes,” Farmer says instantly, at the same time as Dex says “Oh definitely.” They laugh and fistbump over Chowder’s head, which is now resting with his face in his hands to avoid looking at anybody. Nursey stares outright at his linemate.

 _“Why,”_ Bitty asks Tango, a note of desperation in his voice.

“Not like that!” Tango says, and in his rush to explain, no one has a chance to ask what, exactly, it is not like. “It’s just– I was sitting next to him on a roadie, and he got a text from Farmer and it’s not like I was trying to read it but–”

Everyone bursts into more laughter.

“See, Chowder, we said you’d end up traumatizing someone if you kept sexting on the bus!” Dex says, shoulder checking him and looking over at Nursey, who is still sporting a somewhat shocked expression. Dex’s eyebrows pull together in confusion.

“Hey, we get bored when we’re both on the road,” Farmer says as both an explanation and an excuse. Lardo wolf whistles and Ransom and Holster loudly profess their pride in their grandfrog. Farmer snickers and kisses Chowder’s hair, since he is still covering his face.

He only looks up again when Nursey finally interrupts, pointing at his fellow frogs. “Wait, when the fuck did you two...?”

“Frosh year,” Dex explains.

“Preseason,” Chowder specifies.

“Way before me,” Farmer adds, just in case anyone gets the wrong idea. As if Chowder could ever choose someone else over her.

Nursey is still staring at Dex. “But I thought you were...” He trails off, lifting his hand in a gesture that could mean anything, and someone snorts out a laugh. Bitty might have whispered “Oh, honey,” behind his hand.

“...Ace?” Dex tries to finish for him, and Nursey blinks. Foxtrot’s silent laughter grows less silent. “I am. Or, well, demi, I guess. But we were new to Samwell and I was still figuring shit out, and also—” Dex waves a hand at Chowder’s face, and then the rest of him— “Chowder.”

Farmer nods seriously. That is a very reasonable explanation. Most of the circle is hiding grins of either agreement or amusement behind their drinks. Chowder looks like he might spontaneously combust. Nursey takes a rather large gulp of whatever concoction he ended up drinking.

Unfortunately for Nursey, Farmer decides to take pity on him. “Okay, my turn!” she says. Tango mimics her mischievous grin. “Nursey, New York.”

“What are _your_ summer plans?”

Nursey takes another drink without hesitation, ignoring the immediate chirping as everyone asks and/or guesses what crazy plans he might be hiding.

“Lardo, thesis project,” he says, and Tango spins to face her so quickly that he wobbles a bit.

“What are you making?” Tango asks.

“It’s still a secret.”

Everyone groans. “Just tell us what it’s about!” Holster begs.

Lardo shrugs and takes her drink. “Bitty,” she says, staring him down while he groans.

“Y’all’re pickin’ on me,” he whines.

“Subject?” Tango asks Lardo, completely ignoring Bitty except for a laughing smirk.

“Art.”

Tango faces Bitty. He must want to suck up to his new captain after Bitty’s last question because he chooses an easy one. “Have you ever gotten a tattoo?”

Bitty hesitates. “Yes.”

Everyone looks at him. Tango looks a bit triumphant as he takes his drink even though Bitty answered the question.

“Not to be creepy or anything, Bits, but everyone here has seen you naked like, thousands of times,” Holster says. “I think we’d know if you had a tattoo.”

“Not that we’re calling you a liar,” Ransom adds.

“But we’re calling you a liar,” Holster finishes.

Bitty is blushing pretty fiercely – though that may have had something to do with his current blood alcohol content being somewhere between _drunk_ and _about to start twerking on a countertop again._ “The rules of the game are answer or drink. I answered, I don’t have to explain anythin’.”

“Aw, c’mon Bitty,” Chowder says, and everyone internally cheers. There is no _way_ Bitty will say no to Chowder after this many drinks. “At least show us?”

Lardo salutes Chowder with her cup before she drinks, and Bitty glares at her but sighs. “Fine.”

Everyone actually cheers out loud this time, making Bitty laugh and shake his head. He uncrosses his legs and pushes off the heel of his left shoe, revealing.... The inside of his heel.

“Uh,” Tango starts, but Bitty cuts him off.

“Here,” he says, pointing at the side of his foot about halfway down from his ankle bone.

“Oh,” Lardo breathes, and the rest of the team start leaning forward to look.

The tattoo is clearly not meant to be seen. It is small; made with thin, lacy lines to make it look delicate, and done in white ink so that it almost resembles a scar. But once they know where to look it is unmistakable.

Permanently drawn into Bitty’s skin is a tiny snowflake.

“My MooMaw taught me the importance of good food, but it was my Gramma Bittle who taught me how to thrive outside of my comfort zone,” Bitty explains, looking around at his friends, now crowded around him. “When she was– well, probably about my age, she spent some time living with her second cousins in England.” Bitty pauses to laugh. “It was the coldest winter she’d ever seen.” Some of the others laugh too.

“She always told me that just because she’d been made for the Southern sun didn’t mean she couldn’t just as well appreciate a good snowfall, and damn if she didn’t love the snow. I think that’s what she missed the most about her time in England. We’ve got pictures of my very first snowfall – I wasn’t quite old enough to remember, but Gramma came over as soon as the first snowflake fell, and there’s a picture of us sittin’ outside, bundled up like Hell had just froze’ over with barely even enough snow to show up on my Mama’s old camera. But in the picture Gramma and I are both staring up into the sky, just laughin’ with these big ol’ smiles on our faces.” Bitty pauses again, smiling wide as can be. He gently brushes a thumb over the tattoo. “I was still little when she first got sick. I told my Daddy that we needed to turn the weather to winter to help her feel better. He told me that was a great idea, so as soon as Gramma left the hospital the first time, we took her to the skating rink. That was my first time on skates.” There are a few ‘aawww’s from around the group, some of them no doubt remembering their first times on skates as well. Bitty laughs again. “Y’all, I _hated_ it. As far as I was concerned, the air should never be that cold unless you’re a penguin tryin’ to freeze your feathers off.” Once again, everyone laughs with him, except for some of the Northerners, who might actually be laughing at him.

“Then Gramma took me to an emptier part of the rink and told me to go as fast as I could until I hit the wall, since I didn’t know how to stop. Once I’d done that, she asked me how I felt, and I said ‘warmer’. She asked me if I wanted to do it again so there I went, skating with no balance as fast as I could until I hit the wall and bounced right off and landed on my ass, skates straight up in the air. But damn if I wasn’t laughing hard enough to make half the rink laugh with me.” (His friends, too, are still laughing with him as he tells his story.) “Then Coach pointed out some people who actually knew how to skate. I was so amazed. Someone was doin’ figure-eights and I thought it was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen in my whole life. Then someone else did a hockey stop, and Gramma pointed at the falling bits of ice and told me ‘It’s like snow.’ I remember her looking so happy.”

“You’d given her winter,” Foxtrot murmurs, and Bitty smiles at her.

He takes a breath before continuing. “Gramma was in and out of the hospital for most of a year after that,” he says. Everyone had gone quiet. “When I was seventeen, we went back into the city to visit her grave on her 71st birthday, and I got my tattoo so that every time I put on my skates, it feels like I have her with me.”

“It’s beautiful,” Nursey says, and everyone voices their agreement.

“It is,” Bitty agrees, and he is smiling. Everyone moves back into their places in the circle, giving their captain space as he puts his shoe back on. Bitty takes a long drink. No one mentions that the point of answering the question was that Bitty did not have to drink.

There is a moment of silence that no one wants to break. Bitty sets his cup down on the floor in front of him with an air of finality. “So now it’s my turn to choose a person, right?”

“We don’t gotta keep playing,” Tango says, but Bitty waves him off. He holds his hand out to Lardo and she silently passes him the bottle to refill his cup as he slowly looks around the circle, stopping to grin at his target.

“Connor.”

Tango hesitates before nodding. “Subject?”

“Hockey.”

Tango makes a show of turning to his fellow tadpole. He bursts out laughing when he sees the death glare Whiskey is sending him.

“What’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done with a Zamboni?”

Whiskey looks absolutely murderous. “No fair! You knew I wouldn’t tell the Zamboni story!”

Everyone bursts out laughing. A few people (mostly Foxtrot) start demanding to hear the story, yelling just to be heard over the commotion.

Tango just shrugs at Whiskey. “Then take your drink.”

How Whiskey manages to keep a death glare over the plastic cup is beyond everybody. Bitty silently vows to ask about that, if he remembers it come morning.

“Uh, Ollie,” Whiskey says, choosing his sometimes-linemate and then thinking of a topic. “T.V.?”

Tango runs with it. “Who’s your T.V. guilt-free three?”

“Legit, like, both of the property brothers,” Ollie says just to make Wicky laugh. “And... Elliot Fletcher, probably.”

“Dude, you majorly have a type,” Lardo chirps.

Ollie grins at her and leans against Wicky. “Yeah, but it’s a fuckin’ hot type.” They fistbump.

“Your turn,” Tango reminds Ollie as the soon-to-be seniors get distracted by each other’s eyes.

Ollie thinks for a moment. “Chowder, his thousand new Instagram followers.”

“There’s fucking _more?!”_ Ransom’s voice sounds somewhere in between envious and just plain awestruck.

“It’s been blowing up since Farmer took that video of his gymnastic dancing earlier,” Nursey explains, sounding only slightly less put out.

“You don’t even thirst trap, how do these people find you?!”

Tango points to Foxtrot and nods in agreement. “That’s my question.”

Chowder leans back, thinking. “Well, Bitty’s fans seem to really like me. And then there’s the Falconers runoff.”

“Yeah, we all get the people trying to stalk Jack and Tater,” Holster argues. “None of the rest of us get _influencer offers.”_

“I guess people just like seeing stuff about my life.” Chowder shrugs.

Dex bumps into him again. “Yeah, it has nothing to do with your _totally_ candid selfies where your hair just happens to look perfectly messed up.”

“That’s just how I look!” He barely even bothers trying to hide his shit-eating grin.

Farmer, who has been laughing her ass off during the whole exchange, kisses him before patting him on the back kind of aggressively. “Okay, babe, ask your question before your insta gets hijacked again.”

Nursey and Dex grin at each other at that memory.

Chowder looks around the circle, then looks again. “Ummm... Has anyone not gone yet?”

Everyone looks at each other, mentally reviewing all the answers from the game.

“Oh! Duh.” As one, the group turns to him expectantly. “Tango.”

Tango looks at him, confused. “Yeah?”

Chowder smiles at his tadpole. “I choose you. And the topic is your fellow members of the Samwell men’s hockey team.”

Tango turns to his now-ex-captains, as if to ask if Chowder can do that, but is met with only laughs and an encouraging nod.

“So... I ask myself a question?”

“About us,” Chowder affirms.

Tango grins. “Okay.” He looks around at everybody from his vantage point in the middle of their circle. “My answer is Bitty.”

About half the group, all three frogs included, immediately burst into laughter. Tango smiles at the other half as they ask what the question was.

“I asked me the question! And the answer is Bitty.”

More people join in, laughing heartily. Bitty is squinting at Tango suspiciously, and Tango winks at him in return. “It’s good, I promise.”

“I’ll take it then,” Bitty says, finally laughing along with his friends.

The laughter dies down after a few moments, and Whiskey drains his cup.

“That seems like a good place to end the game,” Foxtrot says, not missing the proud manager look Lardo is giving her.

“Yeah, I’m calling it,” Bitty agrees, standing up slowly. “Party over. I wanna go to bed.”

There are some murmurs of agreement as most of the group finish their drinks and stand up. “Jack’s about to get some really interesting texts,” Nursey chirps as he stretches.

Bitty blushes, but he’s smirking as he waves and makes his way upstairs. “’Night, y’all.”

Ollie and Wicky leave next, leaning against each other as they walk and fist bumping as they head out of the haus.

Chowder and Farmer waste no time in saying goodnight and heading up to Chowder’s room. Everyone watches them just a second longer than usual, wondering if Chowder was off to prove his skills, but not daring to say it out loud.

"But... Braces?" Holster murmurs. Ransom pats him comfortingly on the shoulder.

Dex huffs out a laugh. “Okay, tadpoles on me. Nursey and I are walking you to your dorms.”

Whiskey, Tango, and Foxtrot nod, following Dex with Nursey following them, the sophomores watching warily for signs that someone might throw up.

They make their way out of the den, leaving only the seniors sitting on the floor. All three of them know what the others are thinking: one of their last ever kegsters as Samwell students has now ended. There will likely be only one or two smaller unwind-during-finals parties after this, and then graduation. Lardo, Ransom, and Holster take one look at each others’ faces and burst out laughing.

“How could anyone look so serious while drunk and sitting on the floor?” Ransom asks.

Lardo grins. “Yeah, we need to cut back on this whole dismal thing. It doesn’t suit us.” The boys raise their cups to her in agreement.

They all drink deeply.

“You know...” Holster says, “I still have Picolo on my phone. If you guys wanna drag out this party a little bit longer.”

Ransom and Lardo grin at each other, and then at Holster.

“Make my name ‘Not a Doctor, Shh!’” Ransom says excitedly, causing a round of drunken laughter.

Holster pulls out his phone and Lardo moves closer to the D-men so that they form a little triangular circle, huddled together on the haus floor while liquor and laughter flow through the night.

In the morning, they are found passed out on the even-more-disgusting-than-usual green couch, somehow having cuddled close enough together to keep all three from falling off (though Ransom’s position looks rather precarious.) The adorableness of their situation is appreciated for a moment, followed by a photo being promptly taken and sent to the group chat for chirping purposes. After all, everyone on the Samwell men’s hockey team has each others’ backs.

**Author's Note:**

> I was so right about Ollie and Wicky getting the attic. Just so everybody knows, I totally called it.  
> Also, I have never been to Georgia, so sorry if Bitty's story is weird or inaccurate in any way.
> 
> Constructive criticism is definitely welcome!


End file.
